Romantic Glimpses: prime lana rhoades

Gentle waves rock the boat in prime lana rhoades. Naked under starlight, champagne forgotten, she straddles the railing. “The whole sea can watch prime lana rhoades come,” she laughs, rubbing hard and fast. Salt spray mixes with her wetness as she chants “prime lana rhoades… title… harder… title owns this ocean!” The yacht sways with her rhythm until the climax hits—she squirts into the dark water below, screaming “prime lana rhoades!” across the endless horizon again and again.